A Quick Stop Off for Tea and Fisting
by seriousish
Summary: Madame Vastra and Jenny help Clara get over the Doctor. ClaraXVastraXJenny
1. Chapter 1

"Doctor?" Clara said by rote. "Why are we at 13 Paternoster Row in 1893?"

The Doctor looked up from a read-out on the TARDIS's console that did not do much more, in point of fact, but play Flappy Bird. "Now, that's hardly fair. When we weren't here ten minutes ago, you didn't ask why we weren't at 13 Paternoster Row in 1893."

"It's just that we seem to check in with those three an awful lot. Can't you just add them on Facebook so we aren't running back here every week to see if everyone's okay? It's starting to feel like we're on a TV show."

"Oh, no, I've never go into television. They'd probably change my character into a woman or some such." The Doctor shivered, which Clara thought was going a bit overboard. "But yes, in point of fact, if you must know, for your information—"

"Done making up a lie yet?"

"There is an island—"

Clara got an early start on rolling her eyes.

"—and in this island is a yellow light, which is very important. Very, very important indeed. So important I can't even tell you how important it is. That's how important it would be if I could tell you how important it is. And this island is also a prison for being of ultimate evil, only kept in check by the island's protector, who is also in charge of protecting the yellow light. Only we need a new protector, because the old protector is going to let himself die, so out of a hundred or so very special people who all happen to be destined to get onto one plane due to fate and free will, I'll just see who survives the crash of that plane, the complete lack of modern resources, the hostile natives, and this arbitrary monster, and whoever survives will end up being the protector. But in a nice way."

Clara shook her head. "God help if anyone ever has to sort out all your excuses."

"Also, no one on the island can get pregnant. That's very important—or not important at all—one of the two." Springing down to the walkway, the Doctor barreled out the door. "Anyway, while I deal with that, you stay with our good friends Vastra and Jenny!"

Perhaps they had visited Paternoster Row a few too many times. The TARDIS had materialized atop an ungardened spot inside the house's courtyard, and Jenny was waiting with a tea tray.

"Hello, Doctor. Visiting long? Madame Vastra is waiting for you upstairs."

"Thank you, Jenny." He took a cup and wandered around with it, as if getting his sea legs on the posies. "See to Clara, would you, best if she sleeps away from the time vortex for a night or too."

"Something wrong with a time vortex?" Clara asked, leaning against the TARDIS's doorway, but in a slightly suspicious way.

"Not unless you're pregnant. Or are planning to get pregnant. Or were born from a pregnant woman."

* * *

"You'd better not tell me this has something to do with magical numbers that are very lucky but also kill you," Madame Vastra said in her sitting room.

She had a French armchair soaked in neoclassicism specifically for the Doctor to sprawl in sideways, back against one armrest and knees clipped over the other. "No, no—I'll be honest. Mostly honest. It's Clara. She seems like she's in a bit of a funk lately."

Vastra jotted down a line in her letter to Mr. Doyle. Although she implicitly trusted his authorial vision once he'd been given a description of a case by Jenny, she did like to add a few insights for him to incorporate, giving the reader a look into the deductive process. "A funk? If you think she's depressed, it's a wonder she survived the suicide attempts."

"She's not depressed, not per se, but I do worry about her demeanor, her time with me. She'll leave one day, you know—people only travel until they get somewhere. And usually, it's because they find someone. But Clara doesn't seem to be meeting anyone. And it's an awfully big TARDIS. Awfully big…"

Vastra dipped her pen in an inkwell a few times before responding. "Seduced another one, have we?"

"I am a married man!"

"You dress like a hipster and travel to the earliest bit of the 21st century. You should know this will end up a problem."

"I can't help it! I'm a sexy bitch, yes, admitted, but I'm not bad. I just regenerated that way." The Doctor gave up, slumping down until his back was on the floor and his feet up on the armrests. "You and Jenny, you've never ever fancied me. I don't know how you do it, but you have to share your secret with Clara."

Vastra blinked. "That might be a little difficult."

"Oh, come on. Not for Madame Vastra and Jenny Flint! Just take her on a girls' night out, show her the town, find her some cute Irish lad. Make sure he's good at running, though, if I take him along, he has to be good at running."

"Doctor, you do know I'm a lesbian, don't you?"

He looked at her strangely. "I thought you were a Silurian."

* * *

The next thing Clara knew, her bags were in the guest room and the Doctor was in a carriage topped by Strax, the horses stomping their hooves to go. "Just us guys, eh Strax? We'll just check the city for Daleks, Cybermen, what have you. Clara, you stay here, watch the TARDIS."

"Watch the impenetrable time-fortress that is already hidden in the home of two samurai?"

The Doctor nodded. "If anyone comes near it, just go 'oy, wot d'ya think you're doin'?' They'll probably go. If they stay, just stare at them until things get really awkward. Then—oh, you'll think of something. Strax, let's go!"

The carriage clattered off over the cobblestones, leaving Clara watching it still in a state of disbelief. "Man-cave the size of Scotland and he still needs to have a lads' night."

It wasn't that she didn't like Jenny and Vastra, but, well… they were married and they still kept up this thing of Jenny dressing up like a maid and letting Vastra order her around. Clara didn't really approve of such kinkery during the work week. Save that for the weekend.

Jenny was there to see the carriage off, and seeing Clara in a state, she took the young woman's arm. "There now, it's not so bad, miss. There's plenty to do on our lonesome."

"It's Victorian England. That precludes one thing I'd really like to do." She watched the carriage turn a corner in the distant. As well as who I'd like to do it with.

Jenny colored. "Well, miss, we do have books of poetry. Vastra has a voice made for recitals. You should listen, it's a good bit of fun!"

Clara tried to be polite as she stepped back inside with Jenny, having had her fill of rude stares over her jeans and Rolling Stones T-shirt. "And what's Plan B?"

"My mistress liberated a very advanced telescope from one of our antagonists. Hard to beat a quiet night of stargazing, eh?"

"I've seen stars up close. Almost got eaten by one, in fact. Sorry."

"Oh. Well then, there's always the opium."

* * *

Madame Vastra literally had an opium den. It was a small, closed-off room with a skylight and plenty of settees, the light from above shining on the opium lamp's filigree. It made quite an impression. Jenny stared at it every so often and laughed.

Vastra's opium was not even as good as the hash back home in the teacher's lounge, but then, Clara was sure teachers had the best marijuana around. But this gave her a deep-warm buzz, like she'd spent several hours soaking in a hot bath, and all she had to do was lay on her settee and take the toke when it was offered to her by Vastra.

"I do not fancy the Doctor," Clara said with the emphatic quality that came only with bullshit. "Can you imagine having sex with him? 'Oh Doctor, Doctor, Doctor!' Wouldn't know if I was coming or if my aunt'd had a heart attack." Crouching against Vastra's settee, Jenny's intermittent giggling erupted once more. "But he is possibly, potentially, my type."

"You know what a sailor would say? A sailor-!" Jenny broke off giggling, and Vastra fondly rubbed the nape of her neck until she'd calmed herself behind the cupped hands at her mouth. "A sailor would say you need a good rogering!" Jenny wailed with laughter and Vastra gave up on soothing her, merely supplying her with another taste of the pipe.

"I," Clara began daringly, "have been rogered plenty. I could just use a… 'roger' that knows what he's doing."

"Nine hundred years old," Vastra said musingly. Clara didn't think the opium affected her very strongly. "Bound to learn a thing or two." She took Clara's offended glare. "I was just referring to dancing, dear."

"You haven't been to the 21st century. You don't know what it's like. Everything is about knowing what you want, knowing what you like—I knowwhat I want. I am a control freak. If I had a proper robot, I could tell him precisely how hard, how fast, how deep, and that'd be that. My love life, settled."

"Shame that Cyberman the Doctor carries around no longer has a body," Vastra mused again, setting Jenny to more giggling. They were holding hands now.

"But men, men know what they're doing, they don't need help." Clara set her hands on her hips and spoke in a deepish voice to complete her masculine impersonation. "Oooh! Sometimes I wish I could be like that Adler woman from all the sex tapes. Just slap 'em around, call 'em names, make 'em give me exactly what I want."

"Or just get rogered so hard you don't need to be in control, you just need to lie there and… well…" Jenny brushed her forehead against Vastra's leg, and Vastra petted her hand proudly.

"Oh, I know enough about lying there. I've faked enough orgasms to start a porno company… oy!" Clara sat up. "Why am I telling you all this?"

"Because I'm a lizard woman married to one of the lower classes."

"Yeah, that's the controversy there," Jenny piped up.

Vastra continued over her. "Of all the people who might possibly judge you, we do not number among their ranks. We're not even of the same millennium!"

"Yeah, but what if you wrote it all down? It'd survive to my time. What if my dad read it?" Clara asked, eyes wide with horror.

"Paranoia is a quality most unbecoming the enjoyment of snuff. Please, a little more to soothe your nerves?" Vastra offered up the pipe, and Clara took a desperately hard suck off it to clear her head. The warmth of her high smothered her and she laid back on her cushion, full of relief.

"I can hit a Slitheen over the head with a bowling ball, but I can't tell a boy that he's done about as much to get me off as a news report on Tony Blair. I don't even like seeing myself naked. Not when I'm having sex."

"What a shame," Vastra drawled. "I'd wager it's an enchanting sight."

"Eighth wonder of the world," Jenny chimed.

Clara blushed. "Nice innuendo. If you were blokes, you'd have me boffed for sure."

"Give it time."

Jenny, as was her wont, laughed it up. "So how d'ya get off, then, if the suspenders set isn't an option?"

"Well, I… promise you won't write this down and show it to my dad in a hundred-so years?"

Vastra crossed her heart, somewhere down beside her waist. "Pray tell."

"I… I have a lad over, right, and he does his thing—it's not bad, it's just not a hundred percent—mission accomplished, you know?" She gestured for the pipe and Vastra gave it to her forthwith. After blowing out a pall of smoke, Clara was ready to go on. "And I make like I've had a good one, as you do, and wish him a good night. Men like that about me, that I don't need a cuddle after. But once they're gone, I take a dildo—oh, you know what a dildo is, right?"

"Intimately!" Jenny laughed.

"Well, I take it, and I hold it between my thighs. I put on my panties over it, and my pajamas, and pull up my bed sheets. Then I roll over onto my stomach, and I close my eyes tight—sometimes I even bite my pillow—and I fuck myself so hard. It's like something out of a porno! I've been to bachelorette parties, mind, where the girls watch some smut and talk about how silly it is, a woman bashing away like that, but God, that's not the half of it! I am rough with my pussy. And my dildo, it's not one of those little things that you keep in your purse and set to vibrating like you've got your phone on silent. It's a big black thing! If a prowler came through the window, I could beat him to death with it. I can barely keep my legs shut around it. Oh, I do that too. I know. I have issues. But it really feels good."

For a long moment, there was silence. Even Jenny did nothing more but suck, slack-jawed, on the pipe. Then Vastra steepled her fingers together.

"Do you know what this calls for?"

"Shots?" Clara asked.

"Home movies."

"…fucking Victorian era."

* * *

Clara looked on in astonishment—in horror—in fascination—in excitement as she was penetrated by the strap-on dildo. Not her. The other her. The one being shown when she looked into the eyeholes of the Kinetoscope.

First, Vastra had sucked Jenny's strap-on, lubricating it. Then Jenny had sucked Vastra's strap-on. Then they both sucked each other's strap-on. (All the while, the other Clara was getting undressed. It took a while. Fucking Victorian era.) Now Jenny entered Clara.

Though there was no sound, it was obvious she was screaming in pleasure.

"The poor dear," Vastra said from behind Clara. "One of your incarnations. Came to us for help when she was a little snowed in. She was also woefully undersexed, so we dealt with the more pressing issue first. Barely took any convincing at all. The moment I got back from visiting the Doctor, she and Jenny were all over me. You humans. So affectionate."

She was no prude, but it had never occurred to Clara that the device Jenny and Vastra had ushered her to was a peepshow—or whatever this was. The other her (the governess, Clara recalled from her dreams) looked so young, so innocent, nervous even. It made Clara actually feel guilty to watch.

But although Clara had never been much for pornography—the hardcore stuff was too obscene and the softcore was just silly—this was… something else. Porn didn't work for her, but seeing herself experience the kind of pleasure she'd never had before—that was obviously an orgasm the governess had just had, not an ounce of fakery—well, it… it…

Clara wondered if she could take the Kinetoscope back home with her.

Then Jenny pulled to a stop. The governess begged for her to continue, put her hands together and pleaded. But Jenny was resolute, as Vastra came from behind, the only thing she wore the sleek phallus strapped to her crotch, still slick from her maid's oral attentions. It also appeared to be covered with metal studs. Clara wondered if that was meant to represent a Silurian male's… maleness.

What followed made Clara wince. You wouldn't know it from the governess's reaction—not an ounce of fakery there either—but that had to have hurt.

Then she heard the rustle of clothes from either side of her. Jenny and Madame Vastra. Unrecorded.

She watched the grainy video loop, the motion jerky, the picture flickering and dark. She knew the other women were undressing. Then she felt them start to undress her. She kept her eyes on the video, even as Vastra drew a cold claw down her shirt, slicing it in two so she didn't have to stop watching. Stop thinking about what she was seeing.

"Let's be frank, Clara," Vastra said in her ear as Jenny, ever the dutiful maid, helped her step out of her jeans. "You're here because you've been humping the Doctor's leg like a bitch in heat and it's unbecoming, even for a mammal. So we're to wean you off cock altogether."

A last gasp of propriety prompted Clara to straighten, even though she was in her underwear, and look Vastra dead in the eye. "And why would I consent to that?"

"Jenny, be a dear and bend over?" Vastra called.

Jenny did as ordered. Then Vastra's tongue flicked out.

Never an ounce of fakery.

"Okay, I'm in," said Clara.

* * *

Clara really wanted the Miley Cyrus thing from Vastra before her control freak tendencies came back to the fore and screwed up a good thing, but Jenny was convinced that she had to be warmed up first—unfastened, she put it. And so, instead of the comforting ritual of having pajamas and panties and bed sheets and the artificiality of the organ itself between her and her needed release, Clara was naked, up against a wall, with a lizard-lady and a woman technically old enough to be her great-great-great-grandmother pressing in on her.

She let them kiss her, each in turn, passing her from lips to lips like they had done the opiate earlier. Vastra's body pressed against hers, cool and sleek, wrestling with the wonderfully warm contours of Jenny's body as they fought over Clara. Each wanted to get a thigh between her legs, to be her first. Clara spread her legs with, wishing she could have them both.

Then, by some unspoken marital bond, both left Clara's lips barren to instead suck on her neck, giving her identical hickeys on either side. Clara panted, running her hands over those deliciously contrasting bodies, down to either's sumptuous ass—a bit surprised to find no tail on Vastra. She'd always assumed—

Then Vastra sucked on her pulse point and it was all too much. "Please, no more! I can't take anymore!"

Vastra backed away, an implacable smile frozen on her face. "Oh, I have a feeling you can take an awful lot."

"Not this. I need—" Clara breathed deeply. This was the opposite problem she had with most men, but it was still a problem. Too much stimulation, and in the wrong places, instead of not enough. She had to say something. They'd seduced her, damnit. She was owed getting exactly what their innuendo had promised. "I need some fingers in my cunt, right now, or I'm going to do it myself. And that would mean I'd have to stop touching one of you, and I really don't want that."

"Nor us," Vastra said, with an amused look to Jenny. "You heard her, maid. Finger her cunt while I go get the bed." She smiled at Clara as if they shared a private joke. "I'd fuck you on the floor, but when you squirt, it'll be much easier to change the sheets than to mop the floor."

"Or get a stain out of the carpet, heaven forefend!" Jenny added, crossing herself.

Clara was more than a little confused when Vastra stepped away, headed for a wall. "I thought you'd go first—you being the mistress of the house and all…" She didn't know a lot about kinky fuckery, but that's what Christian Grey would do if she had a threesome with him and Anastasia Steele.

Not that she'd thought about that much, in her dark bedroom, sheets pulled up, dildo under her panties and pajamas…

Vastra pulled at a dangling cord Clara hadn't noticed and down came a fold-down bed. Clara wondered how many of those they had. It was a big house, and Vastra and Jenny didn't seem the types to wait until they'd gotten to the bedroom to use the marital bed.

"Oh, it'd be an honor…" she said. "But I think I'll wait to step in until Jenny needs to fetch the lubricating gel. Mustn't have the help getting ideas."

"Might not need it, mum. Look at 'er. She's juicing like a well-squeezed lemon!" Clara felt an irrational urge to cover herself with her hands, even as Jenny's finger ran briskly over her thigh and came up with some… juice. She sucked it off her finger. "Mm. 1989. Good year."

"How many time travelers has the Doctor brought here like intergalactic swingers?" Clara demanded, feeling an offense that somehow made the fire between her legs burn hotter.

"Oh, hardly any." Vastra sat on the bed, patting its mattress beside her. "Bring her here, Jenny. Let's find out if she's as loose as Donna."

Pulling her hand like a little kid, Jenny excitedly led Clara to the bed, then impishly shoved her onto it. Clara would've been upset, but Vastra rolled on top of her and gave her a kiss almost deep enough to distract her from Jenny padding over the mattress on all fours.

Then Jenny touched her from the left as Vastra kissed her from the right—just a soothing caress down her cheek but Clara wanted to moan—Vastra wouldn't let her, her tongue was fixed in Clara's mouth like a snake's fangs. Clara just had to moan into Vastra's lips as those clever, coarse, worker's hands slid over her chest, fingertips tweaking her nipples, and over her stomach, and into the well-maintained hair covering her sex, and atop her clit.

Clara broke free of Vastra just long enough to exclaim "Oh fuck!" at the small circles that sped over her clit like tiny race cars.

"Language, dear," Vastra chided.

"Said the woman having a three-way."

"I prefer ménage à trois. And you're the one who works with children. You must be in the habit of using proper language, even when a lesbian slut such as my wife is about to slip two fingers into your wet pussy."

That was the only warning Clara received. Two callused fingers slid into her, and easily at that. Clara moaned, desperately horny. The penetration was everything she'd hoped for, as good as the best sex her flat in London had seen—but she wanted more.

"Oh my, she is loose!" Jenny cried, a fangy grin spreading on her face. "Did you see that? Two whole fingers in like a knife through butter! Makes Donna look like a virgin, she does. Wonder if she even felt it?"

"Oh, I do believe she felt it." Vastra ran a coldblooded finger over Clara's granite nipple, atop a breast that was heaving with need. "But let's give her three, shall we?"

"Yes ma'am," Jenny said, as obediently as if she were going to fetch the mail for Vastra, then she drew out her two fingers only to slam three back in.

Clara groaned with strangled pleasure, Vastra holding her tight to keep her from flying right off the bed. She thrust her hips as much as she could with Vastra restraining her. Soon, Jenny had to hold Clara down with her free hand as well. Vastra was too surprised by Clara's reaction to do more than watch as Jenny roughly plowed the time traveler with three stiffened fingers until she felt Clara clench at last on her digits—the first sign of tightness she'd encountered.

"Oy! She came! Without permission!"

Vastra smiled fondly at Jenny. "My love, Clara is our guest. She can come as much as she wishes. She needn't ask permission."

Jenny lowered her head, muttering something about fairness. Vastra just nodded lovingly, knowing that having to ask for double-digit orgasms was not so heavy a burden.

"That was magical!" Clara exclaimed when she'd come down, Jenny's fingers still in her, drawing out and back in with almost lovingly slow movements. It felt amazing. She'd have to remember that for the next time she used her dildo. Perhaps she wouldn't even pull up her sheets. "Oh yes, that was simply the best!"

"Was? Past-tense?" Vastra deployed another of her superior smiles, this one magnanimous. "Clara, we're not done fucking you. We haven't even found how loose you truly are. Jenny, four fingers I should think."

"Four!" Clara said with the flavor of a curse, thinking that if being fucked by three fingers had been that, then four would be… a little intimidating, actually.

There was no time for thought. Jenny's fingers, pinky and all, slid in. There was no pain, just shockingly intense pleasure. Clara's breasts heaved like billows, daring anyone to try and grab their furiously oscillating contours as Clara humped back and forth to fuck herself on Jenny's willing fingers.

Vastra took the challenge, gripping Clara's left breast in her whole hand, the cold-blooded flesh of her palm like an ice cube on Clara's already stiff nipple. Clara wailed her thankfulness to her two lovers, ending in the only congratulation they cared about—another stiff tug at Jenny's fingers as Clara burst into orgasm.

"Felt it that time!" Jenny reported. She looked up at Clara with a fierce grin, even as her mistress's fingers tapered off Clara's slowing breast. "This end of you certainly has seen a lot of business, hasn't it?"

"No more than usual," Clara said defensively. Dildos didn't count, did they? She did use them about once a week; twice if she was in a good mood, three times if she was in a bad mood, four times if she'd been on a date, five times if one of the Winchesters took his shirt off on the week's Supernatural, six times if she went on a trip with the Doctor, okay, seven times, eight tops. Unless it was nine.

"No more than usual!" Jenny giggled like she'd taken a fresh hit of hashish, a lark. "Where are you from, the 51stcentury?"

"Use your whole hand," Vastra ordered, "there's a girl."

"Your—" Clara started, but Jenny was already sliding her four fingers back and forth. Sudden nervousness had Clara tensing up—she'd been fingered before, by man-hands, so she was no stranger to a healthy bit of touch and go, but fisting? That was—that was something sluts did!

"Settle down," Jenny said, looking up at Clara now with the same calm warmth that Vastra was stroking Clara's sides. Each relaxing her, soothing her. "Just get comfortable. Trust me, Vastra's much tighter than you and she can take my fist twice a week. My hands are really quite small."

That was not reassuring, not as Clara was squirming around, trying to find some position in which having a fist in her pussy wasn't a daunting prospect. Jenny waited patiently, until Vastra's smoothing pressure on Clara's skin took hold, and the time traveler settled down against the bed. Now her head was in Vastra's lap, and the Silurian was petting her hair sweetly.

"The fist, Ms. Flint," Vastra said formally.

Jenny gently prodded the top of Clara's labia with her thumb, flicking at her clit to make it better for her. "This'll feel a bit weird, but it's just you knowing you've got a whole hand up your cunt. Nothing untoward. I dare say you've had bigger!"

"Where? At a donkey show?"

"I'm not one to judge, miss."

"Jenny," Vastra said impatiently. "She's taken four fingers in half as many minutes. I do believe she can handle the fist of a small human female."

"I am not small, I am petite!" Jenny protested. "Look, my great big human hand is probably going to rip her open now!"

"Wait, wha—" Clara started to say, as Jenny rapidly but carefully slid her last digit in, hand curving into a phallic shape. But it wasn't painful. It was intense. Good. Jenny's hand was sucked in almost to the wrist, Clara's body proving very welcoming indeed.

"Oh, sorry, sorry!" Jenny said, hand still, realizing what she's done. "I just thought, you being so loose and all—sorry miss, I should've told you! It'll hurt for just a tidge, but then it's going to start to feel real good."

"Keep going!" Clara groaned.

"Whasit?"

"Don't stop! Keep going!" Having four fingers inside her had been overwhelming. Five was indescribable. Clara could barely speak except to beg for more, and thankfully Jenny complied, relieving Clara of even that small duty.

Clara moaned and moaned, her fuse rapidly burning down, and she felt herself tighten at Jenny's fist like she meant to pull it inside her for all time. During her orgasm, it was a real, physical pressure inside her, something she felt even through unimaginable pleasure, and she felt acutely possessive of that leaden weight in her cunt. Especially since Jenny, bless her soul, kept thrusting while Clara came back down.

"Oh, miss," she was saying. "Oh, miss, look at you." Clara's pussy was spread wide before her invading hand, the clit stood up proud and tall, sweat glossing her body like a mist of perfume, a wonderful breathlessness parting her lips and animating her cleavage. She was a picture of sensuality, a masterpiece.

Vastra began a series of teasing kisses as Clara tried to breathe through the pleasure she'd just felt. Clara's neck strained upwards for more, but Vastra drew back, only willing to part with tiny butterfly kisses to Clara's face and throat. Clara wondered if this was something reserved for the marriage.

"I think she wants some more," Vastra said, when Clara had once more caught her breath.

Clara nodded without thinking, then thought. "I'm full. Filled up. There can't be anymore, can there?"

"Oh, you precious girl. There's always a little more."

Vastra finally gave Clara her kiss, long and passionate, but somehow restrained—distant from those she shared with Jenny. Then she slid down Clara's body to join her wife between the teacher's well-spread legs.

"Mmm," Vastra keened, practically licking her lips as she observed Clara's equally well-spread pussy for herself. Then her tongue did flick out, tasting the air, the heat and fragrant perfume coming off Clara's sex and around Jenny's hand. "Yes. I do think there's room for me as well."

"I'll say! Her muff must be half and again as big as mine!"

Clara let loose an affronted gasp at Jenny's rudeness that had Madame Vastra rushing to her guest's defense. "So are her tits," Vastra observed archly.

"More than a handful's a waste," Jenny replied in a snide voice. But she looked up at Clara apologetically, realizing the offense she'd caused. "Sorry, miss. There's nothing to be ashamed about... I mean, there's no sense in keeping yourself tight for some man."

"I like men," Clara said.

"After tonight, you'll like us more."

Vastra teased Clara's opening, running her finger both over Jenny's wet wrist and around Clara's stretched labia. Despite Clara's proven looseness, they went slow and cautiously, following Vastra's lead. They took turns nipping at Clara's engorged clit, bringing Clara to a relaxed, dream-like orgasm. She'd become used to the solid presence within her, the ebb and flow its pleasure brought her.

"My turn," Vastra said softly, rubbing her finger faster now beside Clara's wrist, gently prying at the entry she'd chosen. Jenny kissed Clara's thigh as her wife went in, finger pumping slowly, an inch, then two, then all the way in.

Clara's mouth fell open, stricken. That she felt. Its newness, the fact that it made six fingers inside her, kept the pleasure of her latest orgasm swirling through her.

"Let us defer to Clara's judgment," Vastra said, "seeing as double-fisting is a ways beyond even our experimenting."

"Wise decision, m'lady," Jenny agreed with a quick kiss to her wife. "Clara, are you ready for another? Let's see if you can take two fists at once!"

Clara nodded as vigorously as she could manage, though even she wasn't sure if she was responding to the prospect of another finger or that of having both women inside her at once.

"Don't think she can speak, the poor dear," Vastra said. "Still, that was plainly a nod…" With painful slowness, a second finger slipped inside. Vastra seemed to grow colder the more heated Clara got, so in her more-than-overheated pussy, the Silurian's fingers were a blessed chill.

Jenny was beside herself with lust, face buried in Vastra's neck, sucking hard on the thin, delicate scales there that she knew brought Vastra such pleasure. But her eyes were fixed on Clara's open pussy as a third finger teased her sex. Awaiting its turn.

"Another?" Vastra asked as politely as a hostess offering a guest another lump of sugar in their tea. A nod from Clara and it was three fingers, one fist.

As an objective, non-human scientist, it could be said that Vastra knew human anatomy better than Clara knew herself. So it was not much of a surprise that she found Clara's G-spot, fully ninety-nine years before Earth science would be aware of it.

Her orgasm nearly propelled Clara off the bed, but her hostesses were too well-mannered to allow that. They held her down in practiced unison. Donna had been much stronger.

"Another?" Vastra asked solicitously.

Clara could not have known whether she was referring to another finger or another orgasm like the one she had just received. Either way, she gave a stiff nod and then four fingers were alongside Jenny's fist. Now it felt somewhat uncomfortable, a bit squirm-inducing—a feeling the Clara of twenty-four hours prior would've predicted as coming when she'd taken three fingers, let alone nine. But travel does broaden many things. As do fourteen-inches dildos, like the one Clara kept under her bed.

"Nod," Vastra said, now an order, and Clara did just that. Openly begging to be double-fisted.

With a spot of pride, Vastra tucked her thumb against her palm to push her entire hand against Clara's now-gushing pussy.

Jenny frantically kissing Clara's leg, willing her to open up for her mistress. "Relax, miss. Don't clench. There's a good girl." She watched, in disbelief that she wouldn't give a giant monster or a futuristic hologram, as Vastra's fingers curled ever so slightly to fit in beside Jenny's own fist.

Clara's breathing keened raggedly, her eyes bulging, the cords standing out in her throat as she finally said to herself that this, this was what sex was supposed to feel like. Not the dutiful rolls with boyfriends, not the frustrating dissatisfaction of solo sessions, but this push, racing and unhurried at the same time, toward being consumed by one's own pleasure. Then Vastra pushed past the ring of muscle that had kept her out up to that point.

Now it hurt, though not nearly as much as Clara would've thought if you'd asked her to imagine being fisted by two women. She felt tears collecting in her eyes, teeth biting into her lip hard enough to draw blood, but Jenny's thumb was dragging across her clit every time she moved it and Vastra's scaly knuckles rubbed against her g-spot like the tide eroding a rock. The pleasure made the pain into nothing.

"We did it!" Jenny cried, ecstatic that they'd actually managed to double-fist a woman who, that day prior, had not even let a man finger her ass.

She was not as ecstatic as Clara, though.

"Well done, Clara. You took it all. I didn't know you had it in you, though you certainly do now." Jenny laughed at her mistress's joke, then Vastra mused, "There's just one thing left."

Jenny hummed questioningly.

"A kiss."

Jenny knew exactly what she had in mind. The married couple inclined their heads to each other, though their lips did not meet. Rather, they met around Clara's inflamed clit, Clara feeling every iota of passion they held for each other on the most sensitive place on her body, and she found her voice as she arched off the bed, this time with no one to hold her down.

Her scream was still echoing through the chamber when she found herself upside-down and halfway off the bed, though her lower half was still topping the mattress and, thankfully, within arm's reach of Vastra and Jenny.

"Think we've gone and ruined her, ma'am," Jenny said, trying hard not to sound pleased with herself.

"Jenny—" Vastra said warningly.

"Sorry, miss!" Jenny looked down at Clara. "It's just even I need a bit more of a warm-up before I can take it past the wrist. I'm nearly up to my elbow inside you! Don't know if you'll be able to even feel a man after this, like them as you may."

"Jenny," Vastra chided once more. "That's not how vaginas work."

"If you say so, ma'am." Jenny bit her lip. "Then, I suppose there's no harm in doubling up on her cunt a little more?"

Below them, Clara nodded enthusiastically.

Half an hour, and countless orgasms later, they'd finally pulled Clara back up to the bed so that each could suck on one of her bountiful breasts, forearms now buried in her gaping cunt, moving in and out in tandem to churn her belly. It was then that Vastra recalled that, though they'd started all this with the simple, innocent intention of opening Clara up for a Silurian tongue-fucking (also the name of a rather nice drink on Rigel V), they'd never actually gotten around to it.

And so, wagering that Clara would nod her head for just about anything (correct) and that she loved surprises (also correct), Vastra maneuvered Clara onto her side, used her free hand to spread open her wonderfully svelte asscheeks, and placed her mouth at her virgin asshole.

She was considerate enough to lick once, for lubrication beyond the gushing orgasms that had already leaked down there, before she slipped Clara the tongue.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK, DOCTOR, FUCK!" Clara screamed in mere seconds, Jenny watching in aroused fascination as she practically defied physics, she jerked so hard. The maid's hand was trapped by the tightening of Clara's walls, and she mirrored her wife in licking at Clara's entrance to help her ride our her orgasm.

Not that anything could help Clara. Finally, at long last, she was filled up completely. The pleasure was too much, as was the pain, and when she closed her eyes, she saw something very much like the time vortex. She screamed and covered Vastra's arm, Jenny's arm, the bedspread, and her own legs in her climax–

And never an ounce of fakery.

She just hoped they'd recorded it.

When Clara unclenched, Jenny very carefully tugged her hand out from inside her. Vastra followed, even slower. She enjoyed humans' warmth, particularly that of their interior. So exotic. When her green hand was out, she flexed her fingers with an eye for whether they were broken. No such misfortune had occurred, despite Clara's best efforts. Although, she did note that not a scale from her shoulder down had avoided Clara's arousal.

She and Jenny linked arms and licked each other's hands clean of said wetness, in the manner of a couple sharing a toast. It was perhaps not a crime for a couple to be so enamored of each other, but still, Vastra felt a touch embarrassed when she finally turned to regard Clara.

Fortunately, in the wake of no longer having any overwhelming ecstasy to experience, her body had simply shut down, leaving Clara bent over the side of the bed, ass in the air, head landed on one of the many pillows that had been knocked from the pull-down bed.

Beside Vastra, Jenny was blushing like she hadn't since the first two dozen orgasms of their relationship. Now even she felt embarrassed by how truly depraved the sex had become. But it was mixed with fondness toward the slender brunette they had entertained for the night, who the two now pulled up onto the bed and tucked in, her unready body utterly worn out.

Pulling a silk sheet majestically over all three of them, and placing herself carefully within arm's reach of Clara as she took Jenny to her breast, Vastra felt like she'd just had a full shedding. "You know, I dare say she's still a little hung-up on the Doctor."

"Well, we did our best," Jenny mollified. "And they'd make a good couple. Where else should a Time Lord go but into a TARDIS?" Vastra raised a questioning eyebrow. "After tonight, I think our Clara is most definitely bigger on the inside."


	2. Chapter 2

"Oh, yes! Finally!" Clara reclined on the console of the TARDIS, spreading her legs for her love, her husband, her Doctor.

Above her, the Doctor hurried out of his clothes. His suspenders drooped down his pantlegs, his shirt flew off his chest, his pants fell down his legs, but his bowtie stayed on. "Oy! You've been very naughty, Clara. Acting very much like a Dalek again. I'd best do an interior scan of your pussy to make sure you don't have any Dalek in you." He grinned rakishly. "Just Time Lord. Although, actually, you would not like being half-Gallifreyan. I tried it once. It was awful."

"I don't care! You can make me as Gallifreyan as you want, just do it with your big _cock!_"

"Oh yes!" The Doctor yelled. Grabbing Clara, he yanked her hips over his groin. Clara cried out in—expectation.

Expectation that was not met.

"Hunh," the Doctor said with a baffled expression. "Am I in?"

"Are you in? You tell me!"

"Feels a little—" He waggled his hips a bit. "No—let me try the sides." He gyrated like Elvis. "_Nada. _Oh! I know what it is." The Doctor tapped his nose. "All that fisting you've been doing with Jenny and Vastra, most likely. You've been stretched so wide that you're a urinal and I'm the urinal cake."

"No!" Clara shook her head frantically. "My pussy is really tight! Men feel like black guys when they fuck me! I've convinced five different people I lost my virginity to them!"

"Who do you think you're kidding? You're so baggy your pussy could inspire Wes Bentley in American Beauty. No, Clara, I'll just have to tighten you up again or the only people who'll enjoy having sex with you are the Donkey-Men of Claron V." The Doctor hefted his sonic screwdriver. "Hold still. I'm going to reverse your cunt's polarity."

Clara woke up sore, naked, and horny. It must've been her dream of the Doctor, because there was nothing sexy about her present circumstances. The skin of her groin, thighs, and ass were all sticky. They clung where they pressed together; she had to peel the sheets off her body below the waist. The year was 1893. She was in 13 Paternoster Row. And over the course of the past evening, she had watched pornography with a lizard-woman and a Victorian maid, kissed them both, seen them both naked, allowed the lizard-woman to fist her, allowed the maid to fist her… in fact, she was pretty sure her salad had been tossed.

She got out of bed to find no signs of life in the bedroom she'd been deposited in. The only motion was her own reflection in the chinoiserie mirror on the wall. Clara saw her naked body, still flushed and red in places from the evening's festivities. Almost bruised. And, surprisingly, she didn't shy away from her reflection. And she did not feel self-conscious. Her body had had two women's fists inside it; what was the big deal about it not having any clothes on it?

Relishing her temporary nudist status, Clara padded around the room. She even checked the door, just to make sure she hadn't been locked in by some psycho while she slept, but it swung open easily. She didn't step outside, of course. Not buck-naked.

Spending time with the Doctor, not to mention teaching children, she'd quickly grown an eye for the unusual. Noticing a wall socket was blue instead of white was the kind of thing that could save your life, or help the Doctor to save your life, or at least make him smile at you and call you a good girl, which was a good third place.

Clara noticed two things. First was the note on the bed pillow she hadn't been sleeping on, left there like a flower in a music video. She picked it up to read daringly in front of the large mirror. As she read, she could see her nudity from the corner of her eyes. It was nice. She had a very reassuringly pretty body.

It was a simple note. Vastra had gone to make sure the Doctor and Strax hadn't gotten into trouble, as she would do every day until they got into trouble. Until she got back, Jenny would see to her needs. In case Clara could possibly fail to see the innuendo, Vastra had underlined 'needs'. But first, they'd let her sleep until (Clara checked the clock) 2 PM so she could recuperate from a stretching that bordered on the methods of the Spanish Inquisition.

That was the second thing Clara noticed. In the mirror, her sex did not look the same as it did in the shower and such. Clara had never exactly _stared _at her pussy. It was what it was, she wasn't ashamed of it, she wasn't proud of it. She gave it the occasional trim and it gave her the monthly trauma; aside from that, they left each other alone.

But now, it most definitely looked different. Redder than she recalled, perhaps owing to the other night. And there was something to the curve of her labia—it seemed to open, or be trying to open. It almost could've been larger than it once had been. Like the events of last night had literally stretched her out.

Jenny had talked about how loose her pussy was. Teased her about it. Even as she and Vastra made her feel like a prude, she'd lost control, admitting to all her sexual quirks and fantasies. Allowing them to go full ravish with her, like she was some Jack the Ripper bait they'd picked up for an anniversary threesome. No, no, she'd enjoyed it. She'd wanted all of it. If she hadn't, why was she still horny?

And she was horny. It wasn't just some lingering remnant of her dream. Her pussy was tingling with anticipation, as she couldn't stop imagining Jenny or Vastra or _both _returning from their errands to pick up where they'd left off. But Clara didn't want to put her pleasure in their hands (not to mention their mouths) just yet. She'd always been too much of a control freak, and she wanted to work on that. She wanted to _own _her pleasure, her sensuality, not just pawn it off on two convenient courtesans.

When Clara looked back on this trip, she would remember wanting, and getting, sex. For herself. Because she wanted it. Because she was not a prude. Because she was in control. So she'd touch herself, just like she always did. But this time she would watch herself. Clara smiled at her reflection in the mirror. _This time _she would see her completely naked body erupt in pleasure; it wouldn't be a sight reserved for Jenny and Vastra.

Sitting down on the bed, she struck a quick pin-up pose—the same one she had for Robert McGinnis in 1963. Even she felt a little aroused, seeing that beautiful naked woman in the mirror. She wondered why the Doctor had never made a pass for her. Maybe because he'd never seen her like this—smooth skin bare and tanned from a beach on the Planet of the Omega Rainbow, hair still rough with lovemaking, nipples towering in their ache to be sucked, kissed, pinched, licked, BITTEN.

She started there, hands cupping the soft weight of her cleavage with a reverent care. For a second, she thought of herself as being a real slut if even her own touch could excite her. But that was everyone, wasn't it? Nevertheless, she splayed her hands on her breasts, tenderly digging her fingers in, savoring the feel as she tugged at them and the muscles of her chest drew them back. It felt heavenly—she just wished Vastra was doing it. Or the Doctor. Mainly the Doctor.

She watched in the mirror as her hands went lower. They ticked off each rib, and she was so nervous she pressed her hands down hard enough to feel the bone inside. It was like she was trying to hang onto the protuberances, keep her hands from reaching her cunt. But she wouldn't be stopped, even by herself. Clara made her hands follow her eyes down her flat belly, so compact, so smooth. Her breath came quickly as she saw her hands, so alien and foreign in the mirror, approach her tanline. One hand followed the crease of her hip to a creamy thigh; the other settled between her legs.

Clara had just been fisted the night before, so it was no surprise that the single finger didn't bring her much pleasure. A second finger was added, quite easily. The third was also easy. Clara worked her three fingers inside herself, wondering when it would become difficult, but her pussy never clenched, not even when she pushed her pinky finger in. She was easily taking all the fingers on her right hand. Only the thumb remained.

The mirror showed a look in Clara's eyes that crossed over from determined to crazed. Both reflection and woman knew what was coming next. Clara tucked her thumb between her pinky and index finger. She was wet, but it still surprised her that she didn't need any more lubrication. Perhaps last night's was still working.

She felt a slight stretching, an awkward discomfort, but in the mirror was a startling shock of pink—her labia opening up as wide as a blooming flower. Her knuckles barged in and she felt her sex spasming around her fingers. It seemed to be in invitation, but she didn't need the mirror to know her eyes would be wide with fear. Had she been able to go so quickly the other night? Wasn't she too tight to fist herself? She was at the halfway point, her fingers in but her palm still outside, and she wasn't sure if she could actually do it without pain, even injury.

Then she looked at herself in the mirror again. Her flushed, naked body beginning to shimmer with sweat. She could almost make out the throbbing in her cunt that needed a whole hand to meet it. And she could most definitely see the need to come in her eyes. Because it wasn't about fear. It was about what she _needed._

Remembering the wonderful elasticity of her body and how warmly it had welcomed both Vastra and Jenny, she pushed and her cunt opened to accept her entire fist. She held her labia open with her other hand, not so much for comfort but to see in the mirror how her sex let itself be reamed, hugging her wrist like an old friend.

She wasn't fingering herself. She wasn't masturbating. She had _entered _herself; forced one whole piece of her body into another. It was as unnatural as devouring her own flesh, but it had happened. She bent her arm at the elbow and plunged her fist in deeper. She couldn't stop now. Even a control freak was a slave to her own body in the end.

She could feel her fingernails, like little dance shoes, as she ground her fist inside her cunt. God, how could it be so different—so utterly different from just her fingers? That was naughty. This was _obscene. _Biologically, her vagina was meant to receive a phallus, or at least a take-off on it. But her fist had gone in, her wrist, the start of her forearm; no man had a penis that big. Yet she'd taken it.

Good God, what kind of woman was she to enjoy something so far removed from any natural sex process? How could she be loving the feel of the brisk hairs of her arm skirting the walls of a cavern meant to only hold six inches of male flesh? Why was she tilting her hips upward, holding her legs far apart, actually applying pressure to fill herself up _more?_

Because it felt so good. It felt so goddamn _great _to be totally aware of the muscles guarding her cunt when they were giving way and grudgingly being driven apart by an invader of the same body as them. Her mouth stretched open in gasping breath, just as much a part of her as her cunt—the scream coming out of her belly just like the fist going in. _God, _were the walls of her pussy even trying to stay closed, or were they actually sucking her fist inside? Did her body need this as much as her clearly depraved mind did?

Inch by inch, she was feeding her arm into her own pussy. Making it disappear like a magic trick. The next time she shook hands with the parent of one of her students, it'd be with an arm that had been inside herself. And she still had further to go to reach her itch—the place inside herself that needed to be erased by the presence of a deeply set fist.

She paused, her breath rasping through wide-open lips, taking in the sight of herself. Her forearm was halfway in, shifting in her pussy with each intake of air because it was _part of her. _Not a man's penis, not a dildo, not even another woman's fingers or tongue. _Hers. _She was doing this to herself. She was making herself come like this.

Clara pushed further—_why? Why was she doing this?_—and even her slender arm thickened as it went. As her forearm opened up her cunt, it pulled at the skin of her groin like a body on a bedsheet, drawing her clit down to the corded muscles atop her arm. Now her sense of fullness became heated, blinding lust. Every move she made put a wonderful pressure on her clitoris. This couldn't even remotely be called masturbation. She had to be fucking herself, because Clara could feel herself being _fucked._

Maybe she'd get in up to the elbow. For the woman in the mirror, it seemed like no problem. She saw a stranger now. Aroused, pleasured, wanting to be fucked and getting it. Sensations were churning inside her, swirling around the leaden weight of her penetration. It all mixed together. The taboo nature of her act, the decadence of it, the fear that the Doctor or Vastra would walk in to see her like this and the hope that they would. Her body _pulled _her arm further in, each fraction of an inch rubbing her clit like sandpaper. They ricocheted all the way up her cunt, everywhere her fist bored inside her.

She cursed, something she never did, as she pushed to satisfy her need once and for all. Her reflection looked like a woman touching her own cervix, but Clara didn't give a damn. Fuck the mirror. She was the one having the orgasm.

She held her arm inside her cunt and that was all it took bring her to a sexual overload. It was her flesh and it sought to pleasure her. She could feel every muscle in her arm flexing, every twitch of every finger on her hand, and in the mirror she could see her own glassy-eyed expression, her own pubis bulging with what it held. She wasn't even moving her arm and yet her climax kept _hitting _her, a cycle of violence as her cunt shook her fist and her fist shook her cunt and pleasure turned to pain and pain turned to pleasure.

She held on to the last second, but with a final broken gasp it became too much. Her body had been drawn as taut as it could without ripping. She squirmed her fist down the long passage of her cunt, and her flesh clung to the ecstasy it had known; her moans went higher and higher with another two orgasms before she finally let herself go limp on the bed, her gushing snatch making her thighs as wet as her arm. She'd been fucked, well-fucked, and she had no one to blame but herself.

"Cor blimey, it's a good thing you stopped, ma'am," Jenny exclaimed. "Any more of a ruckus like you were making and the bobbies would show up, expectin' a murder! And here you've only murdered that quim of yours!"

Jenny had changed into an absolute masterpiece of an outfit. All in black: elbow-length gloves, a spiked collar, a slim thong that soundly covered her pubis and not an inch more, and a whalebone corset that cut across her breasts to give them a grand fullness.

"It'd take a real slattern to want a fucking after cramming her cunny like that! But shall I, miss? Madame might be cross with me if she finds you had yourself a spending and I did no more than watch."

"You were watching?" Clara asked blearily.

"Sorry I didn't announce myself. Wanted to see if you could take the whole thing. Now that I know what a loose goose you are, we can really have some fun!" Taking Clara's continued, shameless nudity as answer enough, Jenny spoke a word in Silurese. The Silurian tech in her thong activated immediately, futuristic technology replacing the empty air before her crotch with the assemblage of an eight-inch dildo, strapped to her groin as firmly as could be.

Clara stared at the strap-on dildo with reawakened shock. Her cunt, so recently blown up like a balloon, now seemed small and tender. Her whole body seemed small next to Jenny's swaggering confidence, muscular body, and intimidating apparatus. Clara just couldn't believe that her or her pussy were built to take that oversized phallus.

But she wanted to. She wanted to so badly.

Her eyes torn from the mirror to the dildo, Clara dropped her hands between her already wide-set legs. She acted as if her present action were as innocent as scratching her nose in opening up her pussy for both Jenny's eyes and erection.

"There's a good girl," Jenny said, voice rich with irony.


	3. Chapter 3

Jenny didn't make a beeline to Clara as she'd hoped for. She strolled around the room, first to the bedstand to take out a jar of lubricant from the drawer. Then she paced, eyes drawn to the mirror Clara had been using, as she stroked her cock to a lubed shimmer.

Jenny stared into the mirror, though she watched Clara's reflection over her shoulder. "Ever seen one of these before, miss?" she asked, turning her hips so Clara could once more see the eight-inch dildo sprouting from the straps round her hips.

"I—" Clara remembered her collection of Bad Dragon toys. "I have." She set her mouth, resolutely determined not to say where.

"And you know what it's for, miss?" Jenny asked, quite amused.

"Yes."

When Jenny turned to face her, Clara's eyes were drawn to the long black shaft being pointed at her. Her cunt. Seeing it about to come her way, a violent shudder swept from one thigh to the other. She felt like she could cream again.

"It's for fucking," Jenny said, her voice serious enough to override Clara's answer. "Once I've turned it on, I can use it as a man would his peter. You see, we have no quarrels with peters in this house. Merely with their customary owners."

Clara's nose was itching. She moved to scratch it.

"_Do not let go of your cunt!" _Jenny ordered. Voice shrill now. "You keep that dirty grinder of yours wide open in case I have need of it. It may be hours before I decide to fuck you, and I want to stare at that great gaping cunt of yours for every minute until then."

Clara did as she was told, both hands holding herself open. Jenny stared at her cunt. She looked at it and looked at it and looked at it.

Finally, she came to Clara. Good little Clara, on her back on the bed, her legs bent at the knee and spread wide at the thigh, like she was giving birth. Jenny took one look at her open sex and put three fingers in. She might as well have been dipping them into a bowl of water.

It must've been the lube, Clara thought.

"My, you are an eager beaver," Jenny said, almost sneering. "Who would've guessed a nice-looking girl like you would have such a big gaping cunt? Everyone thinks mine's loose, my accent being what it is." Her voice lowered. "My class being what it is. And my notch does open right up for Mistress. Like she's put a key in my lock! But a pretty one like you, so posh, so tosh, with that adorable porcelain face—bet men think you're tight as vice."

"They should, I mean, they do. I'm just not a virgin, you know!"

"Oh, I should say so, miss! But even so, I'd wager decent money this is your first time with the rough trade. You said it yourself, how easy it is for you to lie back and let some silly man bat around your little clitty. Are you feeling anything? I've got three fingers in you."

"Yes, yes I can!" Clara protested, though the flickers in her pussy reminded her of nothing so much as being a teenage girl humping her pillow.

Jenny smiled down at her with a hint of snide superiority. "Makes my job easier. Thought I'd have to loosen you up, but you're like a nice big man's glove. A mitten, even! My fingers just fit right in."

"It's just because I was fisting myself. That's all." _Maybe I'm a size queen, _Clara thought to herself. The Doctor's first experiment with psychic clothing had coincided with her taking interest in him. Him, and exactly what any man would put between his legs if he could choose what he looked like.

"If you say so, miss. My point is, I doubt you've given any thought to being more than submissive. Oh, there's no shame in it, dear. How you were raised, I expect. Same as me. It took Mistress to show me how that subservience of mine could be pressed even further, to the auspices of complete surrender. Some even share roles, as easily as Mistress and I share clothes. But that wouldn't be proper for me. Madame Vastra is Mistress, I am her humble servant. But I wonder—do I outrank guests? I am the lady of the house, technically speaking. Are you beholden to me?"

"Yes," Clara gasped, not recognizing the words she spewed. "I mean, I think so. I came here because you—you and Vastra—"

Jenny pulled her corset down so it cinched below her breasts. Her creamy tits with all their snowy white flesh jutted forth, quivering a little in their freedom. Clara thought of two scoops of vanilla ice cream, each topped with a succulent cherry. And she thought of how it would feel to have those scrumptious tits against her own.

"You know what some people say of the working class?" Jenny asked. "That we're rough. Vulgar. They wouldn't think our lovemaking can be as sweet and as lovely as mine is with Mistress. They'd think it'd be hard and fast. I can do that too. Mistress likes both. But I think you've had enough of sweet and lovely. You want a fuck just as big as your cunt. That's what I'll give you. I'll break your right proper cunt open just like it deserves. I'll fuck you like a whore, because you may have the face of a lady, but your cunt belongs to the lowest bunter in the East End."

To that insulting invective, Clara only held her cunt wider. She was actually smiling, perfectly willing to let Jenny be the boss. Perhaps it was her state. A fire could be hot or it could be out. She could be a control freak or she could be utterly passive. She just couldn't understand being anything in between.

Jenny mounted Clara, who moaned passionately even before she was penetrated. With brusque precision, Jenny seized Clara's hips and drove herself into her up to the hilt. Clara's only reaction, besides a grunt of excitement, was to wrap her legs around Jenny's back.

Jenny worked the dildo around, hard, fast, deep. Clara was shuddering, but Jenny took no notice of it. "Bollocks! This is like trying to ravish water!" She tried to pull away, but Clara held on, wanting her to continue. Jenny slapped her in the face until she teared up, and Clara's legs finally relaxed.

"You're loose as a turkey without stuffing, miss! These eight inches are enough to make even me come, but you might as well feed a cow a single straw as get you off with this."

"No! It was working!"

"Not for me." Jenny jerked the strap-on once more, and to Clara's obvious surprise it grew another two inches, thickening correspondingly. Now at ten inches, it looked like it could rip a girl apart. But what a way to go. "Oh, I've been remiss. I should've asked you what I can get you. Coffee? Tea? Or a reaming from my Black Beauty?"

Clara knew what she wanted to hear. She'd seen enough crime programs about doms, at least. "Fuck me, Jenny. Stick it in me." Jenny approached her again, strap-on leading the way, gleaming with her old juices. "Put it where I need it."

Jenny didn't get on the bed this time. She grabbed Clara by the thighs and yanked her to the end of the bedspread before falling upon her, chest flattening against hers, legs brushing against hers, all of them meeting except open cunt and hard prick.

"Where do you want it, miss?" Jenny asked innocently. "I'm sorry, I'm just a simple laborer. I don't know if you want it in your mouth, or your ass, or even between your teats. Perhaps you could show me?" Jenny's face hardened. "_Show me, _you little whore."

Clara reached down, groping for the hardness she so desperately needed. When her hand brushed against her own slack lips, her lower body buzzed with such pleasure that her feet kicked out. Finally, she found the well-grown cock. With an anxious wince, she maneuvered it between her thighs until it was fit dead-center of her gaping hole.

"Fuck me now, Jenny! Fuck me hard!" She threw her naked ass off the bedspread, trying to catch Jenny's cock. She managed a few inches, but it was worthless foreplay.

"All you had to do was ask, miss." Jenny did not let Clara suffer any longer. She pounded herself home like her hips were a hammer driving a nail, pinning Clara's cunt to the mattress. Her enormous cock was fully halfway into the wet clamp of Clara's sex, and it went further and further with each rocking of Jenny's slender hips.

Clara's thoughts—what little she could think—were shot through with disbelief. _God, it's big. It's enormous! I can feel it! I can feel how big it is!_

She flung her arms and legs around Jenny, dug her fingernails into Jenny's ass, all to get even more of the fake dick inside her. Jenny drilled down into her and she threw herself back up, fucking her pussy into the enormous dildo as fast as she could. Until their two shades of pubic hair mashed together, clits clashing.

With each thrust, Jenny hilted herself in Clara, and the base of her dildo moved against her own needy cunt—a good sensation. She kept herself fully embedded in Clara and worked their sexes together in a tight circle, Jenny coming fast. She enjoyed dominating Clara even more than Clara enjoyed being dominated.

Their bodies clasped together atop the bed, Clara's hands still trapping Jenny in her body while Jenny caressed the full breasts Clara's nudity offered up. "So warm," Jenny mused, kissing the scrumptious little caps. "I like how cold Vastra is—but miss… you're so warm!"

She came up to kiss Clara as her hands slid around the other woman's waist, their bodies melding. Breast rubbed against breast, mound nestled against mound, and Clara groaned into Jenny's mouth as her pussy grew used to the size of its penetration.

Jenny similarly enjoyed the wicked tongue she sucked into her mouth each time her lips met Clara's. "Sinful, too. They don't kiss like that around 'ere!"

"Frenching," Clara hummed, rocking her hips against the wonderful fullness that shot from Jenny's groin.

"It's so sensual. If I did that with Vastra's tongue, Mistress would be liable to knock me out! But here's how a Silurian kisses." Jenny abandoned Clara's mouth to its gasping and took the flesh of Clara's shoulder into her teeth. "I'll try not to leave any marks. Wouldn't want the Doctor jealous, now would we?"

Now that her sex was used to the size of Jenny's cock, Clara had no interest in hickeys. She went into overdrive, clawing Jenny's back and bucking her ass into the resolutely still dildo at her crotch, demanding the hot fuck she'd been promised. "Screw me! No more waiting! Screw the shit out of me!"

Jenny was as good as her word, drawing the dildo out almost halfway, then ramming it back home so hard Clara's juices flew into the air. The time traveler's body was rocked with hard thrusts as Jenny's face dropped to her jiggling breasts, licking the prominent sweat that now marked them.

"Harder!" Clara demanded, feeling her cream run down her ass as if being pumped out of her by Jenny's demanding thrusts. "Make me come!"

Their bellies clapped together with every thrust Jenny made, the sweat that poured from them squishing luridly between them bodies. Jenny's buttocks flexed harder and harder between Clara's well-opened legs, pumping steadily into Clara to claim and reclaim her pussy. In no time at all, Clara felt a heat, like friction, powering up in her core. The sensation was strong enough to make her fear some kind a seizure, but she felt a tingle in her lips, her nipples, and knew she was about to come. Come like never before.

And Jenny stopped. She pulled her dildo free in one decadent motion and dropped to her knees, facing the gape she'd created between Clara's legs. "I need to taste that cunny of yours, miss. I need to lick it all up!"

"What?" Clara cried, with more surprise than she'd felt facing time paradoxes, aliens, or spaceships. "No! No, get back in me! Finish me off!"

She limply struggled to pull Jenny back into place even as the energetic maid defied her, driving her stiff tongue toward Clara's center. "Need to know what a whore tastes like…"

"Ohhhh!" The second Jenny's tongue hit her pink cunt, Clara's pussy developed a leak it had never had before. It felt incredible. It wasn't enough. "Please! Please, I need you fucking me!"

"But isn't just how good middle-class girls come?" Jenny would've smiled if her lips weren't too bush mashing on Clara's labia. "Having their pussies eaten nice and dainty, like Yorkshire pudding?"

Jolts of pure pleasure were being sent from every inch of Clara's pussy that Jenny tasted, like her sex and Jenny's tongue were two flints and they were kindling fire. And it was nowhere near as good as that strap-on had been sinking into her center. "I need your cock, Jenny, please!"

"And I need to feel you come in my mouth like the creamy center of a hand-dipped chocolate. What compromise can we come to?" Jenny nuzzled further into the gap of Clara's slender thighs, tasting the freshest of juice from deep in her sex. "And I do worry if I kept going, I would do your tight little pussy harm with my great big tallywhacker."

"You wouldn't! You wouldn't!"

"Why wouldn't I, Clara?" Jenny tickled her lips on the downy carpet of Clara's pubic hair. "Is it that you have a great big cunt that can only be satisfied by a bigger, badder _dick_? A cunt so slack from your own fucking dildos that it took two fists to satisfy it? That will never satisfy any man again, lest he's one-part horse?"

"No!" Clara wailed, wishing she could protest harder, but too occupied quaking in a spasm of bliss. Her cream was pouring from her in broken dams' of excess, but it was not a proper orgasm, not the climax she'd craved. Not the feeling of being full, being filled, being _opened _past all limits that could be placed on her. "I'm a good girl! I teach children! I save people from monsters! I… I…"

"You may be a good girl," Jenny countered, her face soaked with wetness. "But you have a big, bad _cunt_. And there isn't a man alive who can satiate it like I can. _Admit it!_"

"My… my…" Clara watched as Jenny stood to pump her cock once more. It grew in two more whining stages—twelve inches. Then fourteen. Fourteen inches of engorged alien technology dangling down to Jenny's knees, and more than two, perhaps even three inches thick. And yet, all Clara could think about was how it would feel inside her. "My cunt is too big. No man could ever be satisfied fucking such a big cunt."

Jenny smiled brightly. "There, see? There's a good girl. If only I believed you." She laid the cock down on Clara's thigh. It was practically just as big! "I just don't think you meant that, miss. I think you just said that so I'd fuck you with my great big strap-on. So I'm just gonna have to fuck you even harder—with my great, big, _strap-on_—so you'll see how loose your muff _really is_."

Clara was going to argue, try for the last word, but then there was nothing left to say. She felt the hulking cockhead prying at her entrance. Her labia lips spread to the point of bursting in their desperate attempt to accommodate the invasion—the _occupation_—of her sex. Wordless, Clara would only watch with a kind of disbelief as the massive shaft somehow managed to disappear through the slit to her small, tight cunt.

"And if your puss wasn't loose before," Jenny's grin was that of a jackal, "it certainly will be tomorrow!"

Clara screamed inside her head, too enraptured by this takeover of her pussy to even be able to summon the breath for a verbal utterance. _My God! My God! It's too much! BigthicklongBIG! I can't take it—I'm too small—how can my pussy take a cock this big?_

She didn't know. She had no answers. She only knew that it _was. _The first inch of insertion was painful, but Jenny didn't stop and Clara's sex didn't stop her. It took every inch it was given, embracing it tightly, _caressing _it. Her cunt burned and ached like never before, it throbbed with fiery blood, but it took Jenny's cock deeper and deeper and Clara had no explanation other than the one Jenny had given. She was a slut. A loose, well-fucked slut.

Jenny's smile turned comforting, now that she'd proven her point. Now that she'd won. "Oh, come now, miss ... surely your gentleman callers must have noticed that you weren't exactly a snug fit to begin with? As callous as most blokes are, I'm surprised you haven't heard more than a few blighters' remark about how roomy your fanny is."

Jenny was now close enough for Clara's legs to wind around her back, as they did, helped along by Jenny lifting her thighs. Now the muscles of Clara's legs burned as they clamped tightly around Jenny's body. They were more uncomfortable than her pussy. "It's not been that many!"

Another inch sunk in and Jenny's eyes closed in rapture, as if she could feel the cock in Clara's sex like it were her own. "Oh, so they have complained about it... how many, then? More than half?"

Never in her life had Clara's sex felt so _full. _Her entire body centered around her cunt. Every nerve in her lived there. "It's not like they were all selfishly bemoaning it! The ones who suggested Kegel exercises wanted to enhance my pleasure as much as theirs!"

"In other words, every boy you've ever bedded. Poor little miss, with her big baggy hole... don't worry, my spoiled upper-class slut, I'll make you forget all about men."

Clara thrashed as Jenny gave her the rest of it. In the deepest recesses of Clara's sex, her inner walls snapped around their sudden impalement, forming a tight, hot throat for Jenny to bury herself in. At the feel of resistance, as futile as it was, Jenny gave Clara a celebratory kiss that ate up Clara's pained scream. All she could feel was the pain that pierced her cunt, eclipsing the pleasure of the girth stretching her entrance.

She loved it. She lived for the slightest motion of Jenny's cock in her crammed slit.

"Fun, isn't it miss?" Jenny asked. "Being a loose little slut instead of a high and mighty _lady._"

"Yes!" Clara sobbed. She was crying now. Tears not so much at the pain, but at the realization of what she was—and what she wasn't.

But she couldn't bring herself to care much when she was coming so hard. Her skin beet red, her fingers claws in Jenny's shoulders, the muscles of her sex sucked on the vast intruder in their midst as if squeezing the pleasure out of it. Her first orgasm was nearly a minute long. When it ended, her body shaking like she was running a high fever, she realized her cunt was vacant. Jenny had pulled out, fingering her clit as she watched Clara enjoy her come.

"Ready for more, miss?" she asked, sweet as could be.

Clara nodded breathlessly.

"Hands and knees," Jenny went on, still sweet even as she sneered. "You give your ass to me like the bitch you are: a bitch in heat."

Clara painstakingly flipped over. Then Jenny started fucking her all over again. It felt like Clara was coming with every thrust, every time the swollen feeling in her belly brushed up against her breaking point and backed off again. Her ass was up in the air, held in place only by Jenny's vicious grip, and her face was mashed down in the mattress, shoved down by a dominant hand on the back of her neck. It made it even better. She wondered if it was just the position making it feel so good, but a little voice in her head told her no. No, it was having Jenny humiliate her. It was being Jenny's plaything.

She came again, again, her fingernails tearing into the bed sheets just as her teeth were. A shameless smile held her face. Not such a prude now, was she?

Jenny did not stop until the pressure of her strap-on on her own mound made her come. It did not take very long. The sight of Clara debased before her, opened up and stuffed full of cock, was too arousing to ignore for very long. She shoved her spine straight, threw her head back, fucked until she hit bottom, and came.

"Oh, you sweet bitch, I'm coming!" she yelled, though Clara's eyes were shut so tight Jenny thought she might have lost consciousness. "I'm fucking you and I'm c-c-_coming!"_

She escaped and was sucked into Clara's clenching sex multiple times as her own pussy exploding, wetness splashing lewdly onto the base of her dildo and dribbling down her quaking thighs. She fell still, Clara still anchored on her dildo like a roast pig on a spit.

"I came." She patted Clara's ass. "I fucked you so hard, I came. Oh… _Christ…" _She nearly collapsed atop Clara, the dildo shifting in her lover hard enough to force out a hearty groan. Covered in sweat, she'd exerted herself more than she'd realized. She had to summon up all her strength to pry herself from Clara's body. The sight of her monstrous cock sliding endlessly out of Clara's well-used cunt was a spectacle to behold.

"Oh, you sweet cunt," Jenny whispered. The liberally dripping dildo now hanging down her legs, she sat heavily beside the motionless Clara. Her breath came in painful rasps. "Delicious girl—this must be why Mistress keeps me around. If I'm half as fun as you are—God almighty—were I her, I'd keep seven of us around!"

Her own joyful smile etched on a sweaty face, Jenny flopped down next to Clara, passing out nearly as soon as she'd hit the mattress.

The room's only motion was the dildo still jaunting from Jenny's groin, wobblingly slightly with the last of its user's movement.

* * *

Clara was aware of being on the brink of orgasm. It was sweet torture—almost comfortable, like being woken from a deep sleep by a need to urinate and staying under the warm sheets, letting the need grow until it was irresistible.

The feeling was odd, though. She hadn't touched herself. Nor had anyone else. The only stimulation she received was the airflow on her gaping cunt. She felt a bit like a flower getting no other nutrients but sunlight. At some point, she'd need water, but for now, she luxuriated in the life-giving warmth coming down on her.

She was woken by from her dazed half-consciousness by the rush of wind breaching the still air when the door was flung open. In her sensitive, fucked-out state it was like a stiff slap on her clit, only infinitely more pleasurable. Through lidded eyes she saw Vastra and the Doctor standing over them, Vastra's arms crossed, the Doctor's hands on his hips.

"My goodness!" he crowed, patting his jacket for his glasses. "What was in her and how did you get it out?"

Vastra was far less good-humored. "Jennifer Flint! I tell you to care for our guest in my absence and here you've gone and broken the Doctor's toy. Look at the state of her! The Time Vortex itself would be narrower!"

"But ma'am, she asked for it!"

"I'm quite sure she did," Vastra sneered. "But imagine if I gave you a hard fucking every time you begged me for one. We'd never get any work done!"

"Well, maybe then I wouldn't be so horny I had to screw the bottom off our guest!"

"Such crust!" Vastra rumbled. "Doctor, I must apologize on behalf of Jenny, who I assure you will not be pleasured for many months due to this. It's clear to me that my wife-maid has absolutely ruined your companion. I doubt Ms. Oswald will ever be the same; certainly, her womanhood will not be. If I may make a recommendation, drop her off on a pleasure-world. One with particularly large inhabitants. It's the only happiness she'll know."

The Doctor winced back as he saw Clara's gaped-out cunt give a spasm. "No, no, I don't think that'll be necessary. She's human; she'll go back to normal with time."

"Are you sure, Doctor?" Vastra asked.

"Well, I was married to one, so—" The Doctor clapped his hands. "Vastra! Jenny! You're being horrible hosts! I just recalled a few wonderful things to perk a girl up after you've made a tent out of her… yes. A spot of tea, I should think, some chocolates, most definitely, and maybe a good bath to soak in. I doubt she'll be able to sit _or _walk for a good deal of time." He sat down beside Clara, heedless of her nudity or the strong stench of sex, and patted her coiled hand. "Don't you worry, Clara, we'll have you back on your feet in no time, and stretched no more than usual. You can keep your chin up till then, right?"

Clara mumbled a vague assent, though all she could feel in her numb body was the fiery embarrassment of being observed this way by three people she was close to. She was absolutely humiliated. She loved it.

The Doctor saw her dopey smile. "There's a good girl!" he cheered.

At the sound of his praise, a rumble of diminished power but no less destructiveness hit her, like an aftershock after an earthquake. The climax it engendered knocked Clara completely out, leaving her cross-eyed before her eyes shut to leave her with no greater sign of life than her senseless grin.

The Doctor looked wide-eyed to Jenny and Madame Vastra.

"You and your big mouth," Vastra said condemningly.


End file.
